


Let the fighter have his minime rest - or his last

by Astray



Series: I re di che? [3]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo e Giulietta - Ama e Cambia il Mondo, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: Character Study, Gen, M/M, Romeo is an ass to everyone, The Author Regrets Everything, Tybalt POV, Tybalt has honour, Tybalt hates Romeo, Tybalt is protective of Juliet, he's more perceptive than given credit for, probably angsty too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tybalt may have been the Prince of Cats, but never a king. Nor did he have nine lives to spare. He was a fighter - a guardian to his family name. But in the end, he could not protect Juliet from the Montagues. He saw in others what he had always refused to see in himself, and maybe, just maybe, he understood his so-called foes better than he thought. All for nothing, as all falls to ruins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the fighter have his minime rest - or his last

**Author's Note:**

> Last installment of 'I re di che?'   
> Based on the Italian musical, though for some reason, I keep having French!Tybbles as my headcanon (not that it matters, and you can have whatever headcanon, I am not sure it'd change much).

Tybalt was a fighter. That was what made him, the way he breathed and lived. No other Capulet would dare challenge him, and the Montagues... Few could match him, he knew. For some reason he never wanted to think about, the Montague who proved to be his match, and the most annoying cur, was not one by name. Mercutio was a lot of things Tybalt cared little about. But he grudgingly admitted to the man being a talented swordsman – he would use dirty tricks, but who would not? Yet something was always off when they sparred – the way Mercutio taunted him – the way Mercutio threw himself at him. It was unsettling – it reminded him too much of a man too willing to die. What on earth could ever bring this out of such a man? Tybalt suspected why, and he hated it. Mercutio's words were too painful and he could not stay aloof. Recently, Mercutio was seeking him out. It was odd – odder still, it started when Juliet took a fancy to the Montague dog. In a way, it was a good thing – because Tybalt itched for a fight – Mercutio would do until he found Romeo. His last stroke was not meant to kill him. Yet, in one instant, his suspicions confirmed. He saw Mercutio turn to Romeo – the betrayal – the pain. A mirror to his own. He ran.   
Benvolio was a worthy opponent but he always turned away. And it angered Tybalt more. Benvolio valued the peace that he himself scorned so much. Tybalt just did not understand him – he stayed by his friends' side, helped them – in a selfless manner that made him ache as he reflected on his own situation. There was no one close enough to be trusted. At the same time, Tybalt resented anyone who ever got in his way – and he'll be damned if Benvolio was not the epitome of it. He lived because he fought, that was it. And he had always thought it was a normal occurrence, that others would be like that. Mercutio certainly was – sparring with swords and words. Benvolio would simply watch and wait and intervene only if needed. Tybalt wondered, rather idly, what it would feel like not to draw at any slights. How could Benvolio be so stalwart, so patient when his friends were not? His best friend running around, flirting, punning, being a nuisance and a thorn in his side. His own cousin being an unrestrained dog seeking to lift the entire city's skirts, wallowing in self-pity. And if Tybalt had hints about Mercutio's own feelings, then so must have Benvolio. And yet, he could tell the Montague would not budge. It was a waste. If his cry when Mercutio was hit was any indication, Benvolio knew it as well as Tybalt did. And Tybalt bore him no ill-will for it.   
Years earlier, Tybalt would have claimed without even thinking that the one person he hated the most was Mercutio della Scala. But now, it was a tie. A tie between him and Romeo. At least, Mercutio never attacked anyone but himself. Romeo... Romeo acted as though he did not want to quarrel – and yet sought it in the worst possible way. When Tybalt learned of his encounter with Juliet, he went mad. From betrayal, grief and rage. He had no right – no right to approach her – she was innocent, she deserved more than a man who chased women for sport. Juliet was pure, she was the only human in a world of animals – he was an animal just as well. And now, Romeo managed to take her away. Tybalt was not sure what hurt the most. To know that he could not let Romeo live, but that killing him would break his cousin's heart. He loved her too much, cared too much to ever wish her grief. Romeo was selfish. Romeo was a cheat. Romeo may think Juliet's love was a shield from his wrath, but it was not. He could have ended it – but Mercutio stepped in. And again he knew not whom he hated most. But as Mercutio, Tybalt had wishes that could not be granted – Juliet was lost to him. When Romeo's blade slid between his ribs, all he could feel was regret.   
Tybalt had lived in red, in fire and in rage – and it was just as well. It had been inbred hatred that pumped in his veins – he was nothing if he did not fight. And yet, he had wished – for a different fate, without all the strife. Even when it was too late. He had known of Mercutio's doomed love for Romeo – and he would not judge him. He knew helplessness too much. And sometimes, he had wanted to tell Romeo. To keep him away from Juliet. But deep down he knew Romeo would have done so anyway – because he was too much of a coward. He had wanted to shake calm Benvolio from his quiet. He had wanted him to scream and rage and rail – but no, never. Always peace. Even as his best friend fell – the only one that mattered, it was clear as day – when Mercutio fell, Tybalt heard no curse. Only the gut-wrenching sight of a man shattering. And Romeo was blind still. Tybalt was an outsider, but if he saw all this, how could the Montague miss it? How could Juliet love such a man who would see his friends only after death? Even he would not have done so – not that he ever had been given a chance. Juliet – delicate, kind Juliet. Beloved cousin – who stayed in spite of what people said. Oh, Juliet, live and may you find a way from this pain.  
Death did not come in one fell swoop – because he had expected it. He had not expected it to be Romeo. Romeo did not deserve to avenge Mercutio. Let him die at Benvolio's hands – silent, watchful Benvolio. Suffering Benvolio. But no, it had to be Romeo. The dog who would be Juliet's downfall – the cur who let Mercutio die for him. Maybe Tybalt was unjust but he did not want to be just. Justice had no place in Verona. May it burn and crumble. May Juliet be spared. And maybe peace is not so bad after all. In the end.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wanted to add Romeo's POV but as my fellow Shakespearianist pointed out, Romeo is too much of an ass to have a say in this. Not to mention we hear him quite enough in the play. 
> 
> I don't like Romeo, in fact. Just in case you wondered. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for bearing with me throughout! \o/


End file.
